


why did it take so long

by theworldunseen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, No Twincest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reconciliation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: It's taken Brienne so long to stop thinking of that mug as Jaime's mug, that chair as Jaime's chair. So when he shows up at her apartment at 7 a.m. after three months of silence with some things to say, will she let him in?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 34
Kudos: 232





	why did it take so long

**Author's Note:**

> I found this on my google drive, completely having forgotten that I started to write it. It ended right as the smut started, so I figured I would finish it in an effort to work on my sex-writing skills. In case the back story is unclear, Brienne, Sansa and Jaime are all journalists, but Jaime works at somewhere Fox News-y that Cersei's dad owns (Cersei is not his sister, and I imagine Tywin is a big investor in it). 
> 
> The title is from the Niall Horan song "So Long."

Brienne was trying yoga. According to the girl in the YouTube video, you were supposed to “find what feels good.” Doing yoga didn’t feel good! She felt tight all over and her mind kept wandering. But maybe that would go away when she wasn’t a beginner.

Sansa has given her the yoga mat yesterday. She’d said a PR company had sent her a new one, but she was too attached to hers to part with it.

“Maybe it’ll help you relax,” Sansa said cheerfully, but Brienne knew it was also a command. Relax. Alright. She would relax. 

The yoga woman smoothly transitioned into “Warrior 2.” Brienne tried to stay balanced, but stumbled. Maybe her legs were too long. Maybe yoga was a short woman’s game. She squeezed her thighs together and tried to focus on her breath.

Though it did make sense that yoga was for short people, she thought as she dropped into a low lunge. Her apartment was so small and her legs so long that she kept kicking things. Someone small, or wealthy, wouldn’t have that problem. Like Cersei...

A knock on the door interrupted that unhelpful train of thought. Brienne glanced at the clock — it wasn’t even 7 a.m. did she imagine the knock? Who would come here this early?

The knock returned. She definitely wasn’t imagining it. As quietly as possible, she muted the video, slipped a hoodie on over her sports bra, and creeped toward the door. She looked through the peephole — Jesus Christ.

It was Jaime Lannister. Standing outside her door, unannounced, before the sun had even come up. Fuck.

She wiped the sweat from her face and tried to take stock of her feelings. She was so mad he was here — but also happy? And also scared. Fuck.

Brienne looked through the peephole again. Jaime ran a hand through his beard. It was new. She liked it.

She opened the door. Jaime jumped, apparently surprised that she had even decided to see him.

“Yes?” she said. It came out ruder than she meant.

“Brienne,” he said, more of a breath than a word. She felt it in her stomach.

He looked so tired, which only made him more handsome. Men always looked better when they were tired, which was true of no woman. Maybe because it made them look vulnerable? She’d think about it later.

“What are you doing here?” she said instead. He sheepishly ran a hand through his hair.

“Sorry, I know it’s early but —“

“Early?” she interrupted. “I haven’t heard from you in three months and then you show up at my apartment unannounced.”

He bit his lip. “Can I come in? I’d rather not do this in the hallway.”

She didn’t want to let him inside. It had taken so long to stop thinking of her arm chair as Jaime’s chair, of her green mug as Jaime’s mug. To stop picturing him leaning against her counter while he made grilled cheese with a smug look on his face.

“I’d rather you not come in, especially since I don’t know what ‘this’ is,” she said, folding her arms. She’d have zipped her sweatshirt if she thought of it before she opened the door.

He nodded, which was unlike him. He was forceful. He usually didn’t accept things without a little pushback.

“Well,” he said. “Last night I was thinking about why I’m so goddamn miserable all the time.” He looked down at the floor, all his bravado gone. “Some reasons were more obvious than others. Working at an evil job where my boss is my ex-girlfriend’s dad, for one. And also I’m in love with you.”

The last part came out so fast Brienne wasn’t sure she’d imagined it. “I’m sorry, what?” she sputtered. He finally looked up and met her eyes. His were sparkling. He took a big breath.

“I’m in love with you.” He said it slow and steady, no mistaking it.

“Jesus,” Brienne said, looking up at the ceiling.

“So once I realized that — or admitted it, take your pick,” Jaime said, the words rushing out, “I decided I needed to tell you as soon as possible. I got to Brooklyn around 4. I sat around in a 24-hour diner. I thought about bringing you a slice of apple pie — it was good.”

He was looking just next to her head, like he was too scared to see her dead on now.

“So I guess if that’s all you want to hear I should go...” he said, his voice trailing off, full of hope that she would stop him.

“You love me?” was all she managed to say in response, her voice so full of tangled emotions. He smiled and nodded. “What did you think I was going to say?” she asked.

“Well there were a least a dozen scenarios where I didn’t even get it out, so we’re already doing better than I imagined.”

She pouted her lips. That wasn’t an answer. She reached for the door knob. He put his hand out to stop her.

“Jaime,” she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “It’s not like frumpy ugly old Brienne has just been sitting around for years waiting for Jaime to love her. That’s not how this works.”

“Frumpy?” he said, the smirk back. “Who called you frumpy?”

“Your girlfriend,” she spit out.

“Ex-girlfriend,” he grumbled as a correction.

“So that’s it then?” Brienne asked. “Every time she dumps you, you come running over here for poor Brienne to make you a cup of tea and listen to your problems? And then you get back together and forget me until the next time?”

He leaned against the door, his exhaustion catching up with him.

“No, it’s not like that at all. And if you let me inside your apartment I would possibly have a better chance at explaining,” he said.

“If I let you inside,” she said, “ _ If _ I do, no more smarmy charming shit. No more cute answers.”

He nodded. She backed up and let him in.

The sunrise was coming in perfectly through the window, hitting him at just the right angle. He looked like even more of a golden prince than he usually did.

He turned and smiled at her. “You got a plant,” he said, gesturing to the little pot on the window sill. She shrugged.  “Have you been doing yoga?” he asked, as he walked over her mat and toward the couch.

“I was until you knocked,” she said, a little annoyed. “Sansa told me I have to relax,” she added. He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

She sat in his armchair — her armchair — and gestured for him to sit on the couch.

“Well?” she said once he was settled. He leaned over and put his head in his hands.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked. “What do you want to know?”

She looked at him from her perch. What did she want? What was she doing? Why was she on the other side of the room?

She got up and sat down on the couch next to him. They weren’t touching, but almost. He turned to face her. She pulled her knees up into her chest.

“Just. Tell me,” she said. 

She didn’t really know what she meant, but apparently he did. 

“Well, every morning I wake up and make breakfast, and I think about what you might be making for breakfast. And I think about how I could be making eggs for you.” His voice was soft and tender. Dreamy, even,

“And then I walk to work, and I look at all the weird people on the street, and I think about how I would tell you about them. The other day this woman spilled a whole bag of bagels on the ground. A dozen bagels, all over the sidewalk. I helped her pick them up, which was definitely your influence — I even tried to give her money to buy new bagels, but she said she was sure the guy would give her another dozen for free. I should’ve asked what store. You would’ve.”

Brienne could picture it now. Jaime in slacks and that green button down she liked so much, charming a woman while he helped collect her bagels from the ground. She probably got to work and told her coworkers she met the kindest, most handsome guy. She would be right.

“And then I get to work,” he continued, “And everyone is an absolute menace, and I think about how you wouldn’t be proud of the work I was doing. Or how I wish I was going home to you. Or how you’d at least have something funny to say that would cheer me up.”

At some point Brienne had stretched out her legs so that they lied over his. He kept his hands away from her though, as if he was scared to point out that were touching.

“And then I get home from work. And I wonder if you’re making dinner or working out. I watch a movie and I wonder if you might like it. I watched ‘Mamma Mia,’ that’s how much I missed you. Do you like ‘Mamma Mia?’”

Brienne grinned.

“I thought so. And then I try to go to sleep and I think about all the times I should’ve kissed you and I didn’t. And if I’m lucky I fall asleep and I dream about you. Then I wake up and do it again. Does that help?”

Brienne nodded. They had slowly gotten closer together. “It’s a start,” she said.

Jaime licked his bottom lip and smiled. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Good,” she whispered back. “Why?”

He put his head back and smiled. “I almost forgot how difficult you are,” he said. She waited for his answer.

“The first time I realized I love you,” he began, his voice still a husky whisper — though maybe it was from lack of sleep, she realized — “We were here. And you were getting all worked up about a story you were working on and your hair was a mess and you were basically chugging coffee and I thought, ‘I love this woman so much.’ And then I spent all this time pretending it wasn’t true.”

He reached out to touch a piece of hair that had fallen on her forehead. She ducked away.

“See, that’s the part I’m struggling with,” she said. “If you knew all along, then why did it take so long?” 

“Well first I felt like an idiot. Like, why should I love someone like this? And then I felt like an asshole, like who am I to imagine that someone this … good could love someone so rotten?”

She took his hand. He seemed as surprised as she did. “It’s true, I am perfect,” she said and gave him a squeeze.

“Right. So then I decided you probably did not feel the same way, and I slithered back to Cersei and my terrible job and being a pretty terrible person. And then she dumped me two months ago, which was a relief, but I still didn’t quit my stupid job. Until yesterday.”

Brienne jumped. “You quit?” she said, “Yesterday?”

“Yep. I’m free,” he said.

“What are you going to do instead?” she asked. He shook his head.

“Go do journalism somewhere that isn’t the definition of evil? Or go do … literally anything else! Honestly, this is so low on my list of priorities right now.”  _ You’re at the top _ was the unstated implication.

His voice was so hoarse now. She wanted to funnel tea down his throat. 

“Jaime,” she said. “I can’t stand you.” He frowned, wounded, until she took his head in her hands. She touched her forehead to his. He closed his eyes.

“I absolutely.” She kissed the tip of his chin. “Cannot.” His nose. “Stand you.” His forehead.

Her lips tingled. She couldn’t believe any of this was happening. She kissed his lips. She felt firecrackers.

Then they sat there, gazing at each other. He pulled his head back, resting it against the couch.

“Alright, your turn,” he said, with a grin.

“My turn?” she asked, diving forward to nuzzle his chin with hers. “I like your beard. Did I say that yet?”

“No,” he said, pulling his head back again. “Now tell me why you’re desperately in love with me.”

“Desperate?” she said, trying to kiss him instead. He kept moving his head just out of her reach. “You’re getting cocky. Maybe I’m just very, very horny.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m not that kind of boy,” he said. She rolled her eyes. 

“Let me think…” she said, mulling it over. “What do you want me to say?”

“Well, what was the moment you knew you were desperately in love with me?” he asked, rubbing his beard against her cheek for a second.

“Again with the desperate,” she said, “Why are you so desperate for me to be desperate?”

He kissed her neck. “Because _I’m_ desperate,” he said in his huskiest voice. It was working.

“Remember that dumb gala? It was last December, I don’t remember what they were raising money for…”

“You had on a blue jumpsuit,” he offered. “It brought out your eyes.” She smiled to herself.

“Right. So I’m at the bar, and I bump into this blonde goddess — it’s Cersei.” He wrinkled his nose, but said nothing. “And she said to me, ‘Oh, you must be Brienne. I heard you’re in love with my boyfriend.’” Jaime laughed. “Oh it’s hilarious now,” she admitted. “It was not at the time. Anyway, before I can say anything, she walks away. And I was so mad. How dare she say that, you know. But then I realized she was right. Which was even worse. Because you were still hers.”

He put his thumb at the top of her forehead, and slowly ran it down the slope of her nose, over her lips, her chin. “I’m all yours,” he said, and she really believed him.

Jaime went to kiss her, but this time she ducked her head out of the way. She swung her leg over his lap so she was straddling him. He put his hands on the small of her back. She felt it tingling.

“If we do this,” she said, “You can’t… don’t do this if you… if there’s any chance you’ll… change your mind.”

He looked her right in the eyes. It was almost too much. 

“Brienne,” he said, “I’d try to get you to marry me right now, if I didn’t know you’d say no.”

“I would,” she confirmed.

“But one day you’ll say yes,” he said, running his hands over her waist. She shivered. “And I’m very patient.”

She wasn’t. She kissed him again. Their previous kiss had been demure, sweet, gentle. This wasn’t. 

Brienne pulled off her hoodie, her arm stuck in the sleeve for a moment. His hands slid up her torso, his finger tips touching the edge of her sports bra. But he didn’t make any moves to get rid of it. Not yet. They were both urgent and slow — they wanted each other so badly but were going to enjoy the ride. 

As Brienne kissed Jaime’s neck, she thought that this was how she liked him. Under her thumb. Desperate. Needy. Open. Hers. Her lips moved to his collarbone as she slowly started to unbutton his shirt. He ran his fingers up and down her spine and growled. 

Once she'd made quick work of the buttons, he slid his shirt off. She realized she’d never seen him shirtless before. She ran her hands through the hair on his chest. He slid his fingers under her bra, then waited, asking for permission. She nodded and he helped her take it off. 

He smiled as he looked up at her, perched on his lap, topless. She ruffled his hair fondly. “This is much more relaxing than yoga,” she said.

“Requires as much flexibility,” he said. “If we do it right.” He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her closer, letting her grind against where he was hard as he kissed her again. It felt surreal that this was happening. If Jaime had called an hour ago she wouldn’t have answered. Now he was in love with her and they were going to fuck on the couch.

She ran her palms along his chest again. She could feel his heart racing under her fingertips, matching the frenzy of her own. His lips moved to her neck, moving closer to her chest. She ground down again, making him moan. 

His right hand found one breast as his lips found the other. “Fuck, Jaime,” she whined, arching her back. He lipped and sucked and nipped as his other hand traced circles. No one she’d ever been with had paid attention to her breasts, she presumed because of their less than impressive size. But they were perfectly sized for Jaime’s hands, and he didn’t seem to find them lacking at all. 

Suddenly it wasn’t enough. “I need you,” she said, and she thought he might have growled in response. She reached down to try to get her leggings off without leaving his lap, but it was proving impossible. 

She stood up so she could remove them properly. Jaime whined at the loss of contact, until he got this devious look in his eye. He watched her gracelessly slip them off — it was so hard to take off compression leggings when you were sweaty — and then he slid down, off the couch, on to the floor. His head fell back against the cushions. 

“Come here,” he said, drinking her body in with his eyes. She never felt so tall, so powerful, so hot. She went to straddle his lap, but he shook his head. He tapped the couch on either side of his face. “Come here,” he repeated.

She didn’t have to be told twice. She kneeled around his head, holding on to the back of the couch so she wouldn’t fall off. He used one hand to pull her closer, on to his face and he started with one long lick. She shuddered, relishing the feeling of his beard against her thighs. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he said with a little chuckle. “You really are desperate.”

“I will get off if you don't shut up,” she said, trying to sound annoyed. He buried his tongue between her folds and she yelled, practically squealed.

“No you won’t,” he said, and then he really go to work. For a moment she was worried she might kill him between her thighs (when she told him that later, he said it was his preferred way to go,  _ like an idiot) _ but she forgot her concerns a second later. Jaime ate her out with aplomb, nipping and teasing and searching and discovering. When she got a noise complaint in her inbox from her neighbor later that day, she was not surprised. As she felt her climax build, her thighs tightened around his head, which only made the swift movements of his tongue more frantic. One hand was on her ass, pulling her ever closer, somehow, and then he slipped the fingers on his other hand inside of her.

She came with a shout, shaking over and around Jaime’s head. But he didn’t let up, teasing and sucking and licking as she came down from her peak. She climbed off of him and sat on the floor next to him, nuzzling into his chest. He licked his fingers before putting an arm around her. 

“I had a dream like this once,” he said, with a little laugh. “I wasn’t wearing pants, though.”

“Oh God,” she laughed as she looked down. He’d opened his zipper, but he was still definitely wearing jeans. He kicked off his socks and she helped him remove his pants and boxers. “What happened next in your dream?” she asked, kissing him again. 

“You held me down and had your way with me,” he said with a noticeable gulp. “But I don’t have any condoms, so that might have to wait.” 

“We’ll make due somehow,” she said as she reached out and grabbed his cock. He hissed immediately. 

“Brienne, ahhh,” he said as she rubbed her hand up and down. “I’m so in love with you.” He kissed her cheek, so soft she almost cried. 

“I know,” she whispered back. “Let me take care of you.” She kissed her way down his chest, to his hips, to his thighs, keeping her hand on him the whole time. When she finally took him in her mouth, Jaime sighed, all low and rumbly in a way that went right to her core. He was salty and hot and she’d never wanted wanted to suck someone’s dick so much in her life.

Jaime’s moans and twitches and the way his hand was in her hair helped her figure out what he liked best, and it was soon that he was warning her to move her mouth away. But she didn’t, and when he came she swallowed it, wiping her mouth as she pulled away. It was worth it for the look in Jaime’s eyes. If she’d doubted he loved her, she wouldn’t be able to now. 

She took his hand. “You need to sleep,” she said. “Come on.”

She led him to her bedroom, to her giant bed that was too big for her small apartment, but she needed it for her giant legs. He fell asleep almost the minute he went under the covers.

She should let him sleep. She should go take a shower and call Sansa and do some work and go to Duane Reade for condoms — Jaime would probably be knocked out for a couple hours, given his impassioned all-nighter. 

But she figured she could get to that in an hour or two. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.


End file.
